Dateline: "We've never met. Our first date will be a weekend vacation in someone else's house…"
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4 p.m. – I'm checking my phone to see if his plane has landed in Halifax. Nervous texting: it has. I sent an email to a joke website three weeks ago and after a frenzy of emails, texts, Skype, and late night soul-searching, this guy's flying from New York to eastern Canada to see me. We've never met. Our first date will be a weekend vacation in someone else's house.
4:15 – Making each other laugh by text. I ask him if we're crazy. He says yes.
4:30 – Practically hyperventilating from nerves. Do some yoga to calm down. Naughtily hope it makes me look like I just worked out when he gets here.
5:50 – I finish doing yoga, light-headed with virtuousness and meditation, then realize I haven't eaten since breakfast.
5:55 – I absent-mindedly put together a sandwich and am halfway through it before realizing it is made with hummus (garlic), pesto (more garlic), and cheese (I am moderately lactose intolerant). I hope he likes girls who smell bad.
6:01 – More texting. He's boarding in fifteen minutes, but I need to start grooming myself or I will go mad. He says, "See you soon, pretty."
6:15 – In the shower, I scrupulously shave armpits, exfoliate everything, then press my head against the wall and wonder what the hell I am doing.
6:25 – I use my nicest-smelling moisturizer. I remember that brushing your tongue supposedly helps remove garlic breath. I try it. It doesn't. Oh well.
6:30 – Call taxi for 7 p.m. The taxi dispatcher calls me "dear."
6:40 – I put on my previously-decided casual-but-not-too-casual outfit: long-sleeved hipster shirt, jeans that make my ass look great, sweater. Debate hairstyle. Try product. Give up in despair.
6:43 – I am now dressed and at loose ends. Assuming the taxi will be early, I go downstairs to wait. The taxi is not early.
7:13 – The airport is deserted. This is the smallest airport of a capital city I have ever been in. I think there's only one check-in desk.
7:26 – The security screening guy may actually be asleep by his X-ray machine.
7:30 – His flight has landed early. There are other people here staring expectantly at the swinging glass doors, including some small children running around pretending to laugh the way kids do when they know other people are watching them. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.
7:38 – The first people are visible walking from the tarmac.
7:43 – I spot him. He spots me. We smile foolishly.
7:45 – I move into his arms and press my face against his shoulder, because if I look at him I will probably have the sort of tension-rich smile that is more of a death grimace.
7:48 – He has to go to the bathroom. I wait, staring at nothing.
8:01 – When we walk out to the curb, the same taxi driver is sitting there. We climb in. He remembers the address he picked me up at, and drives back towards it.
8:07 – My date lays his hand on the taxi seat and I interlace my fingers with his. We can't stop grinning.
8:11 – I make banal conversation while mostly just thinking how much I wish he would kiss me.
8:23 – Back at the apartment, having dropped his coat on the floor, he kisses me.
8:30 – Nudity. Playfulness. Grinning. Fucking. Neither of us can believe how well we're getting along given that we've never met each other before.
9:57 – He reveals he thought I was an elaborate online prank being played by his friends. "Nobody as great as you just sends me an email out of the blue," he says. I promise that I will disembowel him before he flies back to New York on Sunday, so he knows there is something wrong with me.
10:45 – We drink some water and eat some cookies, but mostly just end up rubbing up against each other like passionate teenaged frotteurs.
11:05 – Another intense bout of fucking.
12:27 a.m. – I can't feel my legs, in a good way.
2:16 – I still have two more days of "date" and then we have to figure out what this whole train wreck means. But for now, I fall asleep with his arm around me, smiling.